The creature from the Blind had fallen on its knees, and by some strange alignment of its spine its both still knelt upright. As Raif drew near he detected, the same raw, alien odor he'd smelted earlier. The creature was naked and its head and part of its chest were covered in fine scales. It was not quite human. Oversized blood vessels running along is arms and legs fed bulbous humps of loosely slung muscle. A bone spur on one side of its jaw protruded through its skin. Raif shud-dered and moved away.

The creature's weapon had landed a small distance from its body and he walked over to inspect it. The thick, night-black sword was burning a hole in the dune. It had already sunk two feet. The walls of the hole gleamed softly as pumice was transformed into glass. Voided steel.

Raif glanced at the lamb brothers; two were kneeling by the body while the third was prayer-walking at the base of the dune. Raif crossed over to Tallal. The lamb brother was rewinding the cloth around his slain brother's face.

Not knowing how to soften what he was about to say, Raif coughed to get Tallal's attention. "We must burn the body. Quickly."

Tallal's long, slender hands ceased moving. "Leave us," he replied without looking up. "Return to the camp while we prepare Farli for the journey."

Farli. Tallal had slipped and spoken his brother's name. Raif repeated it to himself, committing it to memory. You did not forget a man you had fought alongside. When he spoke, his voice was hard. "Your brother has been killed by voided steel. The metal does not belong in this world. If you leave your brother's body intact it will be consumed by dawn, claimed by the same evil that created that thing over there. He will become one of them, and once that happens I cannot say how long he'll be damned."

All three lamb brothers looked at him. The elder brother who was prayer-walking stopped midstep.

Raif pressed on. "I have seen it with my own eye. Forsworn knights, slain by the same make of weapon. Their bodies were stripped. Despoiled." He halted, remembering the Forsworn redoubt, the black stains the four bodies had left on the floor. "We must destroy the body. Now."

Tallal shook his head. "We do not burn our dead." "If you do not burn him I will."

Raif did not know whether it was the words or the threat behind them that got through to Tallal. The lamb brother looked first at the elder and then at the brother who was kneeling on the other side of the body. Both men nodded almost imperceptibly, letting it be known they acceded to whatever decision Tallal made.

Tallal closed his eyes, took a breath, and then opened them. In the seconds that it took he had aged. "We must cleanse him first." "Be quick," Raif warned, before heading back to the camp. The mist began to rise as he traced the lamb brothers' footsteps to the tents. Darkness held. The animals were quiet as he approached, the cookfire dead and smoking. Raif slipped inside his tent. Sitting on the mattress he pulled the wool blankets around him. He just wanted to get warm. After a while, he rose, fearful of falling asleep.

His hands felt big and dull as he poured himself a cup of water. Clumsily, he spilled liquid down his cloak. Exhaustion was making him shake. Although he did not much want to he forced himself to go outside and search for oil. Aware that the lamb brothers kept most supplies in the corral, he headed toward the animals. The milk ewe bleated as he stepped over the hide barrier and entered her tiny domain. She was a fine-looking animal, with bright eyes and a curly coat. Her udder was swollen with milk. To comfort her Raif unhooked her honey log from the ceiling and placed it within her reach. The mules poked their heads over the partition wall and watched as he searched for oil.

Once he'd found a brick of sheep's butter and a carafe of lamp oil, he nodded farewell to the animals and left. A sharp breeze pushed him forward. The great dome of stars was paling, and the mist was on the move. Raif spent most of the journey looking at his feet. He did not want to get lost. As he studied the footprints leading to and from the dunes he realized that one of the lamb brothers must have made his way back to the camp and then returned to the bodies. The thought that someone had been at the camp at the same time he was there bothered him. Why had they not made themselves known?

When he reached the dune he saw that all three men were standing over the body of their slain brother, heads bowed, face cloths moving as they prayed. Something had been done to the body. An L-shaped incision had been made to open the chest, but Raif was only allowed a fleeting glimpse. As Tallal stepped forward to bar his approach, a second brother hastily covered the corpse.

Feeling unwelcome, Raif indicated the things he had brought. "I'll prime the fire."

"No." Tallal faced him and said no more.

Raif said, "I would help you." Even beneath the gravecloth, he could see the corpse was smoking.

"You have slain the wrall. That is enough."

Raif was surprised to hear the world wrall from Tallal. It was the same one used by Heritas Cant all those months ago in Ille Glaive. He would have liked to ask to what the lamb brother knew of them but the time wasn't right. Placing the carafe and butter on the ground, he said, "It must be done now."

"As you wish." It was a dismissal, and Tallal stood and waited until Raif realized that fact.

It was a long walk back to the camp. As he approached the tent circle Raif smelled burning oil and felt some measure of relief.

Knowing he would not sleep, he set about rebuilding the fire. The discipline of peeling sticks, packing kindling and stacking logs helped clear his mind. "It's no small thing to build a fire," Da always said, and Raif decided he was right. When the flames grew fierce enough to sustain themselves, he sat back on his cloak and watched. The heat felt good. It burned, and that was fine.

Dawn came. The mist drained, and clouds began crossing the sky. The lamb brothers did not return. Raif rose, deciding he would milk the ewe. She was bleating plaintively now, in need of release.

Tomorrow he would leave this place. He barely wanted to admit it, but some small childlike part of himself had hoped that he might find a home with the lamb brothers. They searched for the lost soul of the dead; he watched the dead. It had seemed…fitting. Right. Only it wasn't, and he'd been a fool to imagine otherwise. He did not blame them. How could he? They had healed and sheltered him. They deserved his thanks and respect.

Who he was, what he did, had shocked them. They dealt in spirits. He dealt in flesh.

Raif caught the raven lore in his fist and turned it The hooked piece of bird ivory felt as rough as if it had been scoured by the dunes.

Will you come back?

Strange as it was, the Maimed Men had accepted him. Stillborn, Addie Gunn, even the Robber Chief himself, Traggis Mole: None cared about his past. They had used him, but perhaps he was made to be used. And they needed him. The Rift was the deepest canyon in the North. Its greatest flaw. Maimed Men would be the first to die if it were breached. After tonight he understood that what had happened in the Fortress of Grey Ice had slowed, but not changed, things. The Unmade were still pushing through. Someone had to push the other way.

Letting the lore drop against his chest, Raif went to milk the ewe.

Yes, I'm coming back.